Dead Means Gone
by AKAAkira
Summary: Tobias blames everything, including himself. He wants nothing more than to bring Rachel back. So when that dream suddenly becomes tangible…well, it was no wonder things turned out the way they did.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Tobias blames everything, including himself. He wants nothing more than to bring Rachel back. So when that dream suddenly becomes tangible…well, it was no wonder things turned out the way they did.

Takes place during _The __Beginning_, one year after Rachel's death, and during the time skip between the time when General Cross is attacked and deemed murdered, and the point at which Timothy is found.

_**A/N Prologue – like the others, serves more as a continuation of the entire series. Pretty much, only the last line is actually involved with Chapter One onward.**_

**_Now __that __NaNoWriMo__'__s __done, __I __get __to __finally __update __this! __Special __thanks __to _The One Called Demetra _for __the __beta __work!_**

**Disclaimer: D. Gray-man is owned by Katsura Hoshino, and Animorphs belongs to K. A. Applegate. I own absolutely nothing in relation to either works, except for the idea to mesh them together.**

Prologue

_He almost laughed at the absurd happening._

_Crayak had been forced into servitude for four weeks in human time – and that was four weeks longer than he liked. He had absolutely no say in the events that must be transpired, and it was a situation that he had several thousand millennia to forget, yet now it was biting back at him as a dog may to a chew toy. There was no doubt: he found relief at the almost comic event where the roar of rage from his superior had been heard precisely two seconds before the interdimensional link between them actually opened._

_It was a pathetic reaction, though he would never admit that to himself._

_Though, whether he was laughing or not mattered little; all traces of his lighter mood vanished when a wine glass was hurled through said link and smashed into his eye._

_There was little more he could do than simply glare; well, that and completely melt the glass that had shattered upon contact with his "eye", until they were clear drops that fell from his head, almost giving the impression that he was crying. How it managed to fall parallel to and along his armless body was anyone's guess, since there was no actual gravity in Z-space. That being said, nothing Crayak could do would stop the other from doing it again, and nothing Crayak could do would stop the other from speaking._

"_The witch was ahead of me, all along. The cat's curse was broken. The Trojan Horse has been destroyed, and the Doppelganger with it. She has far more allies than we. Though it has not happened yet, even the Five Elements project will inevitably fail."_

'He truly loves the sound of his own voice,' _Crayak __noted, __for __the __fifth __time._

_Though the other must have heard that thought, he still did not turn to face the red-eyed entity._

"_The Hollowfication is going too slowly. The second FREEDOM will not occur for a half-decade. Gulmjulum..." Here the man scowled. Crayak knew it was directed at him, though he still could not see it. "It is a pointless project. There is little I can accumulate there."_

_If there was one thing Crayak hated to be seen as more than being an underling, it was being incompetent. "The girl –"_

"_I must invest more in Rose Red," the other overrode. "Destruction of logic is the more viable operation. As backup, you shall work on cultivating the Chimera Ants further. And...we shall need more diversity, as a precaution."_

"_The girl holds potential."_

"_The girl holds enough power to redecorate your face," the man spat. "Your obsession with revenge is slowing my objective down, cretin!"_

"_Yet you so insist on obsessing over your own girl, the one with the feathers."_

_The portal suddenly widened and, before even Crayak could react, swallowed him, expelling him into the stranger's chamber. The first thing that was immediately noticeable was the brown-haired girl suspended only a little way off, near the centre of the stone room, and it was immediately clear to the inferior entity that the girl was dying._

"_Her __magic __is __of __amplification. __It __is __one __of __a __kind. __Imagine __if __two __of __them __meet, __causing __the __feedback __of __magical __energies. _That_, __not __the __time-space __anomaly __of __yours, __is __enough __to __destroy __everything __in __an __instant. __Including _you_.__"_

"_There is no two," Crayak interjected._

"_Not until the other is re-created, true." The man finally turned to face the red entity, and from somewhere, a source of light bounced off the frame of his monocle, drawing Crayak's attention. They were seeing eye to eye. How ironic._

_Then what the man said next drew Crayak's full attention._

"_If you must, you may deal with your affairs first. We shall need the Revivor, and he's as perfect a chance for you to exact revenge as you will receive."_


	2. It's a Gray World, After All

_**A/N **_**_Since I__'__m __running __two __other __stories __at __the __same __time, __this __one__'__s __going __to __be __the __slowest __updated. __Right __now __I__'__m __going __to __go __for __one __update __every __two __updates __for _Gods Not My Own_, __my __Percy __Jackson __and __the __Olympians __and __Mabinogi __crossover._**

**_Again, __special __thanks __to _The One Called Demetra _for __the __beta __work!_**

**Disclaimer: D. Gray-man is owned by Katsura Hoshino, and Animorphs belongs to K. A. Applegate. I own absolutely nothing in relation to either works, except for the idea to mesh them together.**

* * *

><p>It hurt.<p>

It's already been a year, but still, my chest ached. Still, I felt like I was hit by a Dracon beam, and was left to die. Still, I hated Jake for being the coward he was, dumping his responsibility on others. Still, I expected to hear her voice in the morning, telling me to take the day like a man.

Still, I was such an idiot, never getting anything right.

Like the flower in my beak, straining under the cold, hard walls of wind that keep pushing us, resisting us. I knew I didn't pick the right flower. I knew I picked the wrong way of carrying the precious bundle.

Then I scolded myself for thinking this way on Rachel's deathday, of all times.

Finally, after much work, I broke through the overcast clouds, flying above them. I expected to sense a bit of triumph, having defeated the oppressive, turbulent winds that I could still hear howling beneath me.

But no. Everything was still monotone.

I shut my eyes fiercely and opened them, then blinked several times. Still no. Everything was gray, even above the clouds. I even felt gray, tired from all the work.

It was just me. I knew that. But even then, it was hard to believe anything colourful existed in this world.

It was hard to believe in happiness.

Should've been no surprise.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One –<strong>

_It's A Gray World, After All_

* * *

><p>The futility of it all forced me to think effectively, and so I dropped below under the clouds again. I rode out the storm underneath, allowing it to buffet me to the centre of the low-pressure system building up over just where I wanted to go.<p>

Where I wanted to go was Rachel's grave.

Twenty seconds later the wind I was riding shifted directions, and I was forced to drop down to a different current to continue my journey. The turbulence from the snarling air finally plucked a petal from the flower I was holding, making me wince. I knew this was such a bad way of transporting it.

It was too late to change my mind now. Even from here, I could start to discern the monument dedicated to Rachel's sacrifice. The only people I could see were that guard posted in that small station way to the south, and the man in the top hat seemingly arguing with him. Neither will see me. It was time to go.

I folded my wings and plunged down, trying to enjoy the sensation of gravity sucking me down, accelerating me at its nine point eight metres per second squared, until if I stopped even a second later, I'd be a puddle of bird goo on the ground in front of Rachel.

The notion gripped my mind.

It was so easy. All I needed was to conveniently "forget" about opening my wings, and two seconds later, I could be seeing Rachel again. A freak accident that no one could suspect was suicide. It was a perfect plan. It was a ticket to heaven.

'_Get __real!__'_ the voice in my head snapped. Rachel's voice.

It wasn't anything new, really. She's been there ever since she died.

I sighed, and braked. The wind took me with enough force to rip a man's arms off.

Then I started morphing.

I winced again, this time from pain that flared around my beak – mouth – area. That meant my lips were back first, and they just got attacked by the thorns of the rose that I was still holding.

My wings, unfortunately, were next. The tips of my primary feathers started to change into nails, and from there it moved up until my entire arm and my shoulders made up most of my grossly disproportionate body. Then I fell face first on to the ground, sending fresh pains from my lips, and I took a moment to just lie there before I shakily moved to support my body with my hands.

Everything was still gray. Even the grass.

Then, the rest of my body morphed, leaving me totally human again.

And suddenly, I was ashamed that I never thought to wear anything formal. I was still in the green boxers and white undershirt I had last changed into. It was more than inappropriate, it was downright rude.

Then it finally started to rain, and I thought, _'__At __least __I __can __say __that __I __didn__'__t __want __to __get __my __tux __wet __now.__'_

Nevermind that I didn't own any tuxedo.

Now that I was ready – or at least, as ready as I ever will be – I turned back to Rachel's monument. I swallowed nervously as I went up and placed the single rose by the monument's foot, and started to speak.

"Rachel..."

That didn't come out right. My voice was too hoarse. I guess I haven't used it in a long time. I cleared my throat and opened my mouth again. Then I realized I had forgotten my lines.

So I went with the first thing that came to my mind.

"It's all so stupid!" I blurted out. "It should never have happened! If Jake wanted to off his brother, _he_ should have been the one to do it, not you!"

Rachel's monument was unresponsive.

"You were the key. You were the most important. To all of us. To me! You deserved to live more than that bastard, that coward. Can you see him now? He's holed up. He's scared. Everyone calls him the hero. They don't know what he did. And...they don't know what you did."

I found, to my surprise, I was wringing my hands. It was a surprisingly human trait; something I thought was gone a long time ago.

Maybe that was untrue. Maybe I was more human than I admitted to myself.

Because if I wasn't, I might not ever have said what I would say next.

"You were brave, Rachel. You were the best, out of all of us Animorphs. Everyone respects you, even Ax. But..."

I took a deep breath.

"No one respects you more than I do. And no one loves you more than _I_ do."

* * *

><p>The rose was the sign of it.<p>

At first, I had tried to find a flower that suited Rachel's character. But I found myself buying the rose, as the symbol of love.

A love that, as the silent slab in front of me indicated, would never get returned.

I hated the Yeerks for it. If only they had never come.

I hated Jake for it. If only he wasn't such a cretin.

But I also hated myself for it. We dated so many times, we hung around so long, and yet never once did I find myself confessing to her.

"Oh god..."

Weakly, I found myself on my knees. It was really pouring now. So much that I couldn't tell if my face was full of rain or tears.

"Rachel, forgive me. I wish...I wish there was a way to bring you back."

Reality set in.

"But there isn't."

"Are you sure?"

It was said in such a sing-song tone, I was sorely tempted to whack the child across his face. Then the moment passed, and I sighed before I turned.

It wasn't a child – it was a man. A fairly odd man at that, with his obnoxious top hat, his strangely gray cloak, large front teeth, old-fashioned glasses, pompously plump physique, and a somehow childish umbrella. The umbrella was opened above head, protecting him from the downpour that hammered down.

The urge to hit this man returned.

"Grow up," I told him bluntly. Then I turned back to the monument. _'__Thanks __for __listening,__'_ I told it, and then I started walking away.

"Wait! Wait!" The man seemed oddly panicked, and when I turned to give him a withering glare, he flinched back. "I mean...you're giving up too easily! Aren't you at least going to hear me out?"

"No," I said flatly. "_Dead_ means _gone_."

The unspoken line was: _'__It__'__s __never __going __to __happen.__'_

And then the man gained a dangerous glint in his glasses.

"Really?" he said, more quietly, more poisonously. "I would watch my tongue if I were you. You lived far too short a life to know what love is capable of."

The human side of me was a little stunned. The hawk side of me hissed: '_Predator. __Danger. __Run!__'_

Then there was Rachel's input: _'__He __says __love __like __it__'__s __a __taboo.__'_

The moment abruptly passed when the stranger's mouth stretched into a wide grin. "Now that we're in agreement," he said cheerfully, "let the ritual begin!"

And then from somewhere in his cloak he produced something too small for my human eyes to see, and began working on it feverishly. As I stepped closer, curious, my ear started registering something snapping. It sounded plastic.

The stranger held the item in his hands out triumphantly, and I realized it was one of those cheap, plain, plastic stick-together dolls, complete with a grape-shaped head, conical arms, and feet that could easily compete with a grandmother chair for rocking the body, if not sending it straight onto the ground.

But when the man simply tapped it to make it grow human-sized, my eyes widened. There was no technology that could do something like that.

I had to ask: "Ellimist?"

"Sorry?"

"Are...aren't you the Ellimist?"

"No," the top-hat man responded, and then returned to working on setting the body right on the ground.

"Then...are you Crayak?"

This time a frown was noticeable on his face, but again he replied, "No."

"Then who are you?"

The frown was immediately replaced by a wide grin. "You may call me," the stranger said, bowing low, "the Millennium Earl."

I gaped at him. There was a third power? I thought Crayak and the Ellimist were the only people who could toy with human lives in this galaxy. Had he "immigrated" here from somewhere else?

Dread settled on my stomach. _'__How __are __the __other __two __going __to __react?__'_

I couldn't see a way in which there wouldn't be any consequences. The Ellimist's and Crayak's game had only accounted for two superpowers playing at one point. Somehow, I knew that this Earl could very easily upset the peaceful balance.

"Are you ready?"

All my concerns were wiped away at once, leaving one single hope, my only desire...

"I...what...?"

The man laughed. "It's all very too simple, Tobias. All that's needed is for you, who love her, to call her name and I can bring her soul from the realm forbidden to humans. And then this body will come alive, housing her soul, just so you two can have your happily ever after, never to be separated again!"

I did wonder how he knew my name, true; and his words were surprisingly gleeful, yes; but somehow I could hear no ounce of falsehood behind them...

This man... "Can you really do it?"

"You have my word. And believe me, that's a very powerful thing."

This man was so...

Forget it. I should be concentrating on Rachel...

'_Careful_,' I thought I heard her whisper, but it didn't matter...

Rachel...

"Rachel..."

The model suddenly flashed once...

Its bare head rose, and focused on me...

"Tobias?" it asked in her voice...

Rachel...

It was her angelic voice…

"Rachel..."

She stared back with her beautiful eyes…

It worked...

It actually worked...!

Oh god...

I flung myself at her…

Hugging her, calling her name, crying...

Rachel cradled me, weeping herself...

Her scent…it was the same…

Her hair…still a beautiful blond…

Her shirt…silky after all this time…

Her skin…so comfortingly smooth…

She's the same…

And she's _back_…

My gaze focused on the Earl, and it struck my mind...

'_This __man __is __so __wonderous!_'

"Rachel..." I choked out...

"Tobias..." She embraced me...

"I'm sorry..."

It finally stopped raining...the sun was out...

Somehow, it was still gray...

There was something wrong with my stomach... It was aching uncomfortably...Oh gods, I'm not going to get an upset stomach just after Rachel was back, am I...?

And then something caught my eye...just behind Rachel...something was pooling...something fluid...'_Water...?_' I thought...and then somehow my vision greyed further...

But...I caught a glimpse...water wasn't so..._green_, was it...?

No, that wasn't right...not green...was it blue...? That made more sense...

That wasn't right either...was it red...?

The water was red...

The water was red.

I stared down at my stomach, just in time to see the doll pull her spear-like arm out of it with a _squelch_.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered.

I stared at her, and almost laughed. So this was the trick. The man had put Rachel's soul into a doll. He had never said anything about giving her free will back.

"Just my luck," I choked out, the pain in my stomach worsening with every word. "Killed by love. A fitting end for a fool."

I tried to kiss her, but suddenly the doll's misshapen feet started zooming bigger and bigger into view, and then...

Merciful black.

* * *

><p>It was all too soon interrupted by noisy sounds.<p>

"...Walker! My coat! ...Ouch!"

"...Why you..."

"Level Ones! Attack...'

_Boom_...

"...dear..."

"_Crown __Clo_...whoa!"

..._Bonk_...

"...campy..."

"...no...skin! My dear..."

"_Crown_..."

"...Twos! Attack..."

"...away!"

"...later..."

"...okay? Are you okay? Hey! Can you hear me?"

With a start I realized it was directed at me. I drew a breath, and winced as something seared through my stomach.

"Don't move! Your stomach's pretty bad...but at least the virus didn't get you. Come on, stay with me. Talk about...something!"

Slowly my eyes fluttered open, and at first all I saw was white...then hair...white hair...

And a teenager's face.

"Earl..." I croaked.

"He's gone. He won't be sticking around after I gave him that thrashing, but I don't know if I can deal with your wou...no...I can, just stay with me here. I should have enough medic kits..."

Dimly, I was aware that he was fussing with my midsection. Something light and small was floating around his head. He smacked it, and it spun for a moment before emitting a beep. The boy cursed. "No reception..." he muttered.

"Rachel...?"

"Who's...?" The boy's face darkened. "Someone you love?"

And then I remembered. Earl. The doll. The ritual. The soul.

Rachel…

"Kill me."

A glance was thrown my way but nothing more happened.

"I...I made a mistake." The boy didn't understand. "I helped him. I helped him put Rachel's soul...her _soul_...doll..." I made the gravest mistake. "It tried to kill...no free will...she's trapped –"

"People make mistakes."

He didn't understand. "I shouldn't have...her soul...oh, god...I killed her..." And cast her into a pit worse than Hell. "So...she wants to kill me..." How was I better than the Yeerks?

"Hey, don't assume –"

"SHE WANTS TO KILL ME!" Because I had cursed her... "I WANT TO KILL ME!" Because I was such a fool... "SO KILL ME!" And end my mistake!

"Calm –"

"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME!"

Pain. Slow blood. Darkening.

"Kill me..."

Night.


	3. In the Script of a Pitiful Life

_**A/N Hmm, I still suck with chapter two lengths. Now the next chapter's going to just seem so short…oh well.**_

_**Darn the FFnet formatting that removes triangle brackets...had to improvise...  
><strong>_

_**Did I get the emotions right?**_

_**A silly thing to worry over, but…did I get Tobias' hawk cry right?**_

_**Special thanks to my three reviewers, Akimoto Ayumu, mia826, and skysight49!**_

_**And with that, please enjoy the chapter.  
><strong>_

****Disclaimer: D. Gray-man is owned by Katsura Hoshino, and Animorphs belongs to K. A. Applegate. I own absolutely nothing in relation to either works, except for the idea to mesh them together.****

* * *

><p>I dreamed that I was dead. It wasn't the relief I looked for.<p>

In the dream, it wasn't the gray wasteland or burning plains that I expected. In fact, if I'm seeing right, this is King's Cross railway station that walked straight out of Harry Potter; old, worn, and rough brick supports; the assailing smell of smog; the sunshine filtering through the arched glass ceiling the way the ceiling of a Dome ship does.

There were some twenty-first century additions, too; a digital board that read 18:22:16 in white unrelenting light, with some smaller details projected in yellow; a concession stand specifically for Andalites, designed to produce as much food in as short a time possible, that had bits of either blood or ketchup splattered all around; and, to my right, right between the signs for platforms nine and ten, someone had put up a plaque reading "Platform 9 ¾" that made the wall so tempting to walk through.

"Why am I here?" I wondered out loud. And then I saw the bodies.

They were littered all around me. Human, Yeerk, Andalites, Hork-Bajir, and a few other species I didn't recognize. Some of the faces flashed through my mind – Marco, Cassie, Ax, Toby, Mr. Chapman, Loren, and even the boy with white hair who tried to save me when he should've just let me die. I felt a brief stab of pity for him. If he hadn't been so busy trying save a deservingly damned, he wouldn't be here with me.

Weirdly enough, when I look down at my talons – feet – there I was, lying down in my human body. My body didn't _look_ dead – eyes and mouth closed, no damage on clothes, and the only hints that this boy was gone were the paleness of his face and the fact he didn't move at all.

I looked up.

Maybe I should've been scared when I saw the puppet imprisoning the soul of the girl I loved; it was dark, menacing, and somehow its spike of an arm was dripping blood onto the ground even though all of the bodies I've seen were untouched just like mine. But all I felt, was crippling guilt.

"I never wanted it like this. I just wanted to hold you again…"

Would she even hear me like this? I didn't care. I just wanted to say it.

"I'm sorry." I raised my hand…hesitated…and started moving to her. "Because of me…you're trapped. Because of me…you're being used. Just like how I was used, and discarded. Just like how Jake used us, as his pawns."

For whatever comfort the gesture could give, I reached out and touched its face.

And it reacted instantly, plunging its spear into my torso.

Again.

And again, I found myself on the ground, staring at the floor that suddenly seemed too fluidly moving to describe in words. Blackness corroded my vision, sifting its way into the centre, as I wondered if it was possible for someone dead to die again.

All that while, the only thing that accompanied me in my descent to hell's hell was the image of a top hat and a way too toothy grin. It wasn't comforting at all.

Not at all…

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two – <strong>

_In the Script of a Pitiful Life_

* * *

><p>A little surprisingly, my eyes opened.<p>

The sky was still grey, as dull and lifeless as a puppet left hanging in the attic. I could only wonder at the futility of it, reaching up and down each day; what was the _point_? All things that rise had to come down sometimes. All lives that are led must end someday. All toys that are made eventually go into a trash pile somewhere. So what compelled the sky to brighten, then darken, then brighten then darken, day after day for eternity?

I grew sick of staring at the stubbornness it had. The tenacity I didn't have. I drew in a shaky breath and slowly got up to my talons.

There was a campfire being stoked not too far from me, though I couldn't feel its heat at all. It was somewhat mellow; not like the crackling witch that consumed so many homes, but just like a tender singer holding her note conservatively. A stick was poked into the fire, and the singer gracefully allowed the note to ascend a semitone, but then returned to her comfort zone.

Holding the stick was the white-haired boy. "Hey," he said, smiling.

I didn't know how to respond.

"Are you all right?"

Define all right. All right after being rejected by the girl I loved? All right after drowning in despair like a pigeon shackled into concrete? All right after being stabbed to death – but living, while Rachel, bound…

[Why am I alive?]

"I saved you," the boy said, then his smile turned sheepish. "Probably. I know I patched the wound, though you transforming into a falcon is probably why the wound disappeared."

I gave a start, and then checked myself over. He was right – well, except for the falcon part. But somehow, I demorphed back into a red-tailed hawk while unconscious.

"That's an interesting ability, by the way. Where did you get it?"

[You…don't know?]

"Nope. This is the first time I've seen or heard of something like that. If I didn't know for sure I wasn't in HQ, I'd think Komui's been feeding you experiments. Er, he hasn't been, right?"

I remained silent.

"Ah, okay. But no, I don't know where you gained this power. I don't even know where I am, actually. And before I forget – I'm Allen. It's nice to meet you…?"

I didn't answer him. I didn't want to answer him, because suddenly I felt so _tired_, like the sky was finally pouring all of its greyness down on me, sapping me of my energy, my life. I asked – and if thought-speak can break, it did then – [Why didn't you kill me?]

"It's my job to save people. Especially if they've been victims of the Millenium Earl."

[Victims…?]

"The Earl is a trickster. He goes to people and offers them a chance to revive their beloved. He _does_ have the power to draw a soul back from the dead…but he puts it into an artificial body, and the end result is that the creation gains unnatural powers and follows his every orders. They are called akuma."

[I…see.] I thought, at first, that his story was hard to believe. But then I remembered the Earl's own tale. The Earl's own powers. And Rachel's voice… [So I did damn her, after all.]

Allen winced slightly. "Well…the truth is, yes. That's the simplest way of saying it. But it doesn't have to stay that way – I am an Exorcist, one of those who are destined to fight the Earl, the Noah, and the akuma. I followed the Earl here via an ark gate I managed to attach to his coat – that's how I was able to come here in time to save you." He rubbed his head sheepishly. "Except, I think he managed to force it closed, and now he took off after I destroyed his forces."

…_Des…_

_…tr**oyed…?**_

"I can't seem to create another gate, so –"

Rage exploded.

[**You** _**WHAT?**_]

I lunged – he cried, "Wha –" but blocked – I clawed and jabbed – he used his other arm – _Ow!_ – he backed away – I clung on and whapped him in the face – he spluttered and threw me off his arm – so I flapped even harder and lifted to the sky, five feet, ten feet, fifteen feet –

"Wait!" I heard him cry –

But I had no intention of leaving. I gave a ferocious "TSEEERR!" and plummeted from my height straight at his eye – his disfigured eye –?

He raised his other arm again.

Pain tore through my face as soon as I hit it. I was coherent enough to realize I landed on the ground, and probably broke a few bones.

What was it made of, steel? I need to heal my injuries, _fast_.

"What is your problem?" he yelled.

I had already started focusing on morphing. My beak once again melted back into my face, leaving me with crushing jaws. The tip of my wings rustled once, and then flexed again into thick joints, and then black fur erupted out of my wings, extending it to an arm nearly a metre long.

It was a form I was unfamiliar with, having picked it up a meagre two months ago and never having used it since. But within a span of ten seconds, I managed to force out the arm and face of a grown, male gorilla. I bellowed, [Damn you!] as loudly as I could, and before I even finished a full morph, I drunkenly lunged at him.

He deflected! I fell and skidded, appendages flailing, before realizing my talons remained, albeit much bigger. I reached out and grabbed his leg – or so I thought until he backstepped, coming out with only a scratch. I swung around on my torso, and I managed to land a lucky hit, sending him flying back with an "Umph!"

I gave another yell, lumbering to him with my deformed talons and my sole arm – but faster than I expected, he was up, grabbing my arm and sending me crashing on the ground, and then landed on top of me. I struggled – but I couldn't break free! I had the power of a _gorilla_ with me! Where did this strength come from?

"Stop!" he kept yelling. "Stop! What are you doing? Stop!"

I roared again. [You – you! Damn – _IT_!]

Then I slammed my head on the ground, and started to cry.

That surprised me, almost as much as it must have startled him. I didn't even realize that gorillas _could_ cry. So I made the best of out the situation – I held my head down and bawled my tears out, screaming incoherently as loudly as I could.

The kid didn't let go of me, though he did loosen his grip slightly. I didn't take advantage of it – not even when I finished completely morphing. By that time I was just breathing hard, my eyes screwed shut. Some pain started filtering back to my senses – I seemed to have slammed my face hard enough to break my nose, but my shoulder ached too. Did the kid break it?

But that didn't matter. What did matter, I realize now –

[You told me,] I wheezed, [you _saved_ people!]

"I-I'm sorry?"

I stiffened. He must have noticed, because his grip tightened as well – and this time I definitely heard a _crack_. "Sorry," the boy whispered, loosening again.

[If you saved people,] I forced out, [why did you kill _Rachel_?]

There was a moment of silence, and then a quiet, "Oh."

He let go and got off of me. I stayed still for a moment, and the slowly moved myself up to a sitting position. The boy was sitting just a little way from me, within easy gorilla arm reach, though I wasn't so sure if I could take him on anymore; I sullenly slammed my arms into the damp grass. It had started drizzling again, and the campfire he had made earlier started dying down, but it still threw some shadows on the white-haired boy's face. It was young – definitely below my age, in terms of human years. It was also scarred, not only the thin white lines scattered throughout – how many fights had this kid been in? – but also the grotesque black marks that I thought were disfigurements earlier. It struck through his left eye that was staring at me in – in pity?

"Rachel was her name, right?" he said. "That was her name as a human. As a…a _living_ human."

It was like he stabbed me. I-I shouldn't've had a reason to feel that way, but… [And,] I retorted, [she's _hadn't_ been living?]

"It might look like she is. But remember, _it _is an akuma – an instrument with only the will given to it by the Earl. The soul…well, it's only the fuel. It has no mental contribution to any akuma."

[But she _was_ alive!] I vehemently emphasized. [She walked. She talked. She tried to kill, yeah, but we could have gotten over that! And you said so yourself, she had a soul – no, she had _her_ soul! So _why did you kill her_?]

"It no longer behaves as a living being," he told me. "It will never hunger or thirst again. It will never tire again."

[Sounds like _she _lucked out with immortality to me – until _you_ –!]

"But what's the point of living, if you never give a struggle to live? When nothing is given to attain it, what, really have you attained but nothing? It's just like gambling – one can bet, and bet, and bet, and go for the whole game without winning. But what other feeling makes the victory, itself, even sweeter than its abstinence? It makes you realize, if you haven't already – nothing can go your way forever. That's why you have to treasure whatever you have left…!

"Eternal life – I can't even bring myself to say that it's unfair. If anything, it's unfair to _her_. It's bad enough, for life to be taken for granted – but it's even worse if life becomes a shackle to her. There's just so many things in life that can seem worse than death – and being an akuma is one of them."

[You – you don't know that.]

The boy hesitated, and then said, "There are some things that I have that other Exorcists don't. One of them…well, it's just as much a curse as it is a blessing, to directly see the soul that an akuma has. Don't ask me to show you; you'll react very badly." He shuddered. "An akuma's soul is literally _bound _ – it can't do anything it wishes, only follow the orders of the Earl and the Noah."

[Then I would free her,] I snapped back. [Rachel is strong – stronger than _you_. She's not the kind to cry out in pain, or let tears show. She would have held, and she would believe in me to find a way to free her!]

The kid looked doubtful. "Then what about the other limitations? It _does_ need sustenance of one sort – bloodshed. An akuma grows in power, the more it kills others. Its Level One form, right after it's born, is relatively weak, easily destroyed by an Exorcist – but the more it kills, the more power it gets. That's why the akuma tries to get as strong as possible – as they say, survival of the fittest. So to a soul that abhors killing – can you imagine –?"

[Rachel,] I enunciated, [was _not_ one of them. She killed before. She could have done it again, if she needed to!]

"Even to you?"

My stomach dropped. I remembered. _I'm sorry..._ she had whispered.

…I had no answer.

"We're getting off-topic," the boy murmured. "I'm sorry. But your loved one is gone, forever. You should have realized that when –" He paused, and then added, "When she died the first time."

The agony was brutal, crushing me into a million pieces. I opened my mouth – closed – then opened again, and _yelled_ into the gray sky. What I yelled, I really don't know. I only knew that it hurt, and searing my throat out didn't make it any better.

It was a while before I remembered I was still a gorilla. The tears were streaming down my face again, which was how I realized. I – well, tears probably looked even worse smeared over fur than it did on skin – but I wiped them away with the back of my hand.

When I looked up again, the boy was still there, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

I couldn't answer. I felt too drained.

"Well…I just wanted to make sure you were okay after that incident. At least you know what you shouldn't do again – and hopefully, if you find someone else going through the same thing, you can warn them off. And don't worry about my questions before. You should go home and get some rest. You need it."

I wanted to laugh bitterly. Home, huh? Not in my dictionary.

"If…" he fidgeted, and then he got up. "If it's any consolation to you, the soul of an akuma is freed when it's destroyed by Innocence. It doesn't have to stay trapped forever." He sighed. "I'd best get going back to HQ now. I lost the Earl, and I lost the Ark…I can't chase him anymore…"

I vaguely noticed him walking away. I didn't pay attention. I didn't care.

An akuma's soul gets freed when they're destroyed, huh. Did it matter to me? I already lost my chance to talk to Rachel again. Though – I hated to admit it but – Rachel, she…

More tears threatened to spill as I fully understood the fact; she _hadn't_ been brought back to life, to begin with…

She – _it_ – is an akuma. Exactly as the boy said. I – I should have known…

…

_Is_…?

[Wait,] I suddenly said out loud, startling even myself. I saw Allen halt. [Wait. When you – when you said _is_ –]

_BOOOOOOOOOOOM!_

Both of our heads snapped inland. Only about a few kilometres away, a huge plume of jet black – not grey, _black_ – smoke rose into the distance, towering over the city skyscrapers and hovering ominously, like the eyes of god watching over the city. Briefly I wondered why Ellimist and Crayak hadn't entered this game yet – though, maybe they wouldn't contact me…

"The Earl's still here?" Allen said, something akin to alarm in his voice. "I – I don't know if that's a good thing or not. Hey, you!" My face snapped towards him. "Er…can I call you Falcon? Anyways, get cover, Falcon! And if you see any more Exorcists coming this way – well, I guess they should already know where to go to…"

And with that weak remark, he took off, faster than I thought a human could move.

I watched him go off into the distance for a moment before mumbling to myself, [I'm a _hawk_.]

Then I demorphed, with the full intention of chasing after him.

* * *

><p>I managed to catch up to Allen inside the city. The entire intersection he was standing in was scarred, along with large chunks of the surrounding skyscrapers missing. It was a miracle they were still standing, but a lot of them were also on fire, so they might not be standing for long.<p>

The place was empty of living beings, aside from the two of us. As I flew in earlier, I saw the entire mass of people fleeing by foot in abject terror, pushing against everything in their way, including the local police force. It will be a while before they came into play.

The self-claimed Exorcist was standing in the middle of a concentration of mutilated corpses. With closer inspection, I realized that most of them were akumas, though thankfully none of them looked like Rachel, instead appearing as if they had been the revived souls of animals instead. They looked pretty grotesque, a lot of them having odd parts like their rib cages or their butts bulged out. Even as I lowered myself to the ground, all the corpses – and that included the human and Andalite ones, too – blackened into star tattoos that multiplied over their skin, before disintegrating into ash – or was it dust?

The boy himself, though, surprisingly had no marks on him. How did he fight the akuma?

I lighted down beside him. He turned to me a little dazedly. "I thought I told you to run."

[I need to ask you about Rachel.]

He didn't look like he processed what I said. He was staring around him, turning his head as high as he could go, just like a kid trying to make himself feel taller than someone else. Unusually, he seemed almost on the verge of panic. "Falcon," he said slowly, "where _is_ this?"

[Hawk,] I said immediately, and then I would have frowned if I could. He asked a strange question. But I thought I should oblige him first, since I was asking too. [This is Los Angeles, California. I would tell you the street name, but…] I gazed off and saw that I was right. [I don't see the signpost anywhere, so I can't.]

"Where?" he said again.

[You know, Los Angeles? L.A.? La-La Land? The City of Angels?]

I could visibly see Allen swallowing – his Adam's apple bobbed back and forth nervously, like it wanted to get out of there. "Los Angeles," he said, "is not this tall. It shouldn't be taller than HQ. It shouldn't even have streets established yet. And nowhere in _America_ should a city be _nearly_ this developed yet!"

[Allen, what are you talking about?]

"I deluded myself," he muttered. "I thought – somehow, from the distance, I convinced myself I was just in a really, _really_ rich part of London. But even that doesn't explain everything. Why is the ocean so near? Why are these buildings made of glass? And what in the world were those blue horses?"

[They're Andalites. And they don't like being called horses.]

I guessed as much that that wouldn't calm him down. Allen turned to me, his eyes wide, and this time I could see the _fear_ in them – not quite the fear of prey, the fear of getting consumed, but the fear of an eagle captured – the fear of being totally out of control.

[Allen. What _is_ it?]

"Th-this is the United States, right?"

[Of course.]

"In North America?"

[Yes.]

"This is Earth, right?"

[Yes! What's the problem?]

"Does – does the Roman Catholic Church exist?"

[Well, duh!]

"The Vatican?"

[That's a no-brainer.]

"What about England?"

[Obviously!]

He looked on helplessly. "Then what in the world is _wrong_ with this place?"

I was about to retort that I don't know – but then I saw _him_, absolutely swarmed by hideous monsters. Allen immediately whirled around.

"Greetings, Allen Walker~!" the Millenium Earl called out giddily. He was somehow suspended in the air by his open umbrella – something I don't think real physics won't allow him to do, being a downside to obesity and all, but if he really had powers like the Ellimist or Crayak it probably didn't apply to him. "Such a _naughty_ child you are! I _never_ would have guessed you would ambush me from my own coat! But then again, I never guessed that the Ark could connect _here_, of all places – only shows how well Road and I constructed it, doesn't it?" He laughed.

Allen looked a lot better now, a lot fiercer. With a start, I realized that he was just like I was, in a way.

Fighting in a war that gave him purpose.

"Earl!" he shouted. "What have you done? What is this place?"

"What is this place?" the Earl repeated, and then he giggled. "Fertile soil! The metaphor to Eve, the mother to humankind, this stricken world shall borne a baby boom of akuma! Why, just look at the number of Level Twos I've already created! And there's nothing you can do nothing to stop me –" He puffed up his chest in what must be pride. "I threw away my coat into the ocean earlier!"

"What are you talking about?"

The Earl shrugged. "Well, what kind of a villain would I be if I didn't have a spare outfit I could change into? I'll have you know, I have twenty copies of this exact –"

"I wasn't asking about _that_, idiot!" Allen roared. "I was asking you what you meant by '_this world_'!"

The Earl looked almost comically disappointed. "Oh. Apologies, Allen, I don't really want to let you know yet. That's just my lit-tle~ se-cret~ So please do me a favour, Allen. Die, along with your pet eagle."

[I'm a hawk,] I said coldly.

The Earl nearly fell back in shock, that's how much he gave a start. "Gack! The birdy speaks?"

[And the birdy still wants his girlfriend back. Where. Is. _Rachel_?]

With my hawk eyes, I could make out the Earl blinking rapidly behind his glasses. But then his beady eyes narrowed, a cold glare that I've already seen returning to his face. "I see. To think I've _already_ met one of the Animorphs… As well as this 'Rachel' of yours…well, that certainly makes things easier for me." His mouth split into a toothy grin. "Akuma, attack~!"

Immediately the various beings clustered around the Earl bombarded towards us with the force of a kamikaze plane. Allan immediately jumped, higher than I thought capable for a human; I caught sight of his red(?) left arm shooting out of his black sleeves, grabbing the face of monkey-like akuma and crushing it in with his hands alone.

_What the –?_ Suddenly I was very glad we were on the same side.

He barely spared the bulbous akumas a glance, destroying them with simple swipes, unlike the other, differently-shaped akuma that he usually had to hit really hard or more than once to kill. I realized that the weaker akumas must be the Level Ones – they all looked the same, having round bodies, strange protrusions and a dislocated head. In a split second I decided to target them first.

There were lots of wind around, from the constant explosions of the destroyed akumas sliding up the wrecked debris of buildings and roads, and within a second I was shooting up. Once I was past the ten-feet hurdle, the draft from the fires ongoing gave me even more lift. None of the akuma tried to intercept me, congregating on Allen instead. I was at an admirable height, towering over everything else inside the intersection, even the still-floating Earl.

I folded my wings and dove towards an akuma.

It didn't see me at all, focusing on the Exorcist who was still destroying other akumas at a steady pace. When I reached it, it was hanging around the back of its crowd, seemingly waiting for a chance to tackle Allen like the other akumas. So it all too easy for me to slice across its oddly positioned face with my talons; with grim satisfaction I realized I had actually went and pulled one of its eye out.

Then things started to go wrong.

The Level One akuma gave a horrid scream, and then I learned the hard way that the spikes from its bulbous body were actually _barrels_ of some sort – they started going of almost as soon as I passed it, sending dozens of black warheads pumping out in every direction. Some of them hit other akuma, which made them retaliate, making the confusion worse; some of them went to the sky, and started falling, and I knew I would be in trouble once I had to start dodging them; the last of them went directly towards the ground, shredding up the pavement even further and sending out a beige dust cloud that probably hindered Allen than it helped.

With sheer skill, I managed to maneuver out of the way of every bullet headed in my direction. Now all I had to worry about was the rain of hell.

But then I saw a level two raising a finger gun at me and going "Bang!"

The world exploded into feathers. With a cry I spiraled towards the ground, already feeling sick from the entirety of my left wing that felt like it was burning up. I crashed hard; against all odds I didn't break my neck, but with a sickening feeling I saw black stars from who-knows-what starting to pepper the remaining feathers of my wing.

A hand suddenly grabbed me, yanking me back; with two leaps Allen retreated almost as fast as I could soar. "Transform!" I vaguely heard him yell. "Transform!"

Right. Common knowledge to Animorphs: morphing generally fixed any sustained injuries. I wondered how Allen guessed that from seeing just one example.

But more importantly, now I needed a morph. Something strong. Something courageous.

Right away, the answer popped into my mind.

The black stars faded away with the red feathers; they were the first to change, morphing into blue fur. I could almost hear the slightly sick _squelch_ as the bones formed out of nothing in my stomach, then burst out into two extra appendages that clacked against the broken pavement. As Allen let me go, I grew taller fast, getting to almost two metres between the bottom of the extra legs and the very top of my newly-sprouted stalk eyes.

Almost when I was afraid it wasn't going to form, a bladed tail melted out of my hindquarters. Experimentally, I whipped it up, and it cleanly sliced through the air like a cat delivering a killing blow to a rabbit.

Within fifty seconds, the akuma had caught up, but now I was a battle-ready Andalite – Ax's body, in fact.

Several Level Ones began firing immediately; maybe they were mad about what I did to their friend. But Andalites are nimble on their hooves, as they found out; it was all too easy for me to gallop away from the sporadic blasts. The Andalite deaths earlier must only have happened because they were civilians, and surprised.

With a few more steps, I flashed in proximate to a bus-shaped Level Two and, feeling daring, drove my tailblade into its mouth before leaping back out. Black blood spilled out in huge heaps, and the akuma gave a wail before trying to chase me. I easily sidestepped, giving it another slash that nearly decapitated it, despite its huge "neck". More black blood burst out; some got on my tailblade, and it stung, but no star marks appeared. I was safe.

Unexpectedly, Allen roared, "Don't kill them, Falcon! If they're not destroyed by Innocence, their souls will disappear!"

[I'm a _hawk_!]

I gave Allen a quick glance; he was back in the middle of a melee frenzy, making akumas explode left, right and centre. With another few leaps, he soared over my head, landing on the bus akuma and pounding down with his left arm, making its whole body collapse in immediately. Out of my stalk eyes, I saw a few more akuma move in to my position; with quick movements, I engaged them in battle, skillfully evading their projectiles and slices by circling around them and giving as many of them as I could a good arm-hacking.

They were so distracted by me that Allen practically stampeded through them, instead of the quick, light blows he was throwing earlier; in succession, they blew up, and then Allen skidded to a halt right beside me.

"This," he said, "is actually a pretty good strategy."

[What's Innocence?]

"Later, I'll explain. For now, let's just get rid of these guys and, if we can, the Earl."

I almost agreed – and then I spotted _her_.

All four of my eyes widened at once.

Vaguely, I remembered the dream I had before waking up; she looked exactly the same, the spike on her arms, the rounded feet, the skull-shaped head. This time, I noticed that she had no eyes but instead a big, black star. The more logical part of my brain guessed she was a Level One, and wondered why she didn't look like any of the others.

I ignored the thought. [Rachel,] I whispered.

And then, I became aware that the entire intersection had stopped moving. Almost at once, an entire section of the akumas parted, revealing Rachel in her entirety, just two dozen metres away from me, as if we were opposite ends of the wedding aisle. Was the Earl behind this? I didn't know; right now, he was still floating in midair, concentrated on opening and closing his umbrella with vigor as if he wanted all the water to be shaken out.

Allen's voice reached me. "Falcon. Falcon, it's not real. It's _not alive_. It's an akuma!"

[So – so she _wasn't_ killed…] I was still too numb with shock.

"…It was the only one that escaped with the Earl, from earlier. I'm sorry I tried to mislead you…I didn't want to, but it would have been easier for you…" He trailed off uncertainly. "We have to – to destroy it… It's an akuma…"

I didn't know anymore. Was she alive? Was it just a doll? Was she a person? Was it a just a weapon?

I didn't know. An Exorcist knows.

…I remembered Allen's words.

"_It's just as much a curse as it is a blessing, to directly see the soul that an akuma has. Don't ask me to show you."_

I didn't know. An Exorcist knows.

But an akuma knows better.

[Show me. Let me see Rachel.]

Allen hesitated. And then I made another split-second decision.

I whipped my tailblade up, halting mere millemetres from Allen's neck. [_Show_. _Me_.]

My stalk eye saw his expression. It was shocked. Then it turned angry. And then it turned soft.

And then it turned to pity.

"Don't say…I didn't warn you."

His eye suddenly mutated – a large lens, embedded within a gear, suddenly appeared over his left eye, along with a smaller version right next to it.

On the other side of the aisle, a spectral image flickered into life above the skeletal akuma.

I stepped forward, almost delighted at seeing Rachel.

And then my eyes widened in shock.

She was in chains. I knew that much. But someone went overboard; she was chained with spiked links around her wrists, her elbows, her ankles, her knees, her neck even. Somehow, she had a metal blind wrapped around her skull; I couldn't see her eyes. Her prized clothes were all but shreds; beautiful hair was ripped mercilessly; her smooth skin was perforated, scarred.

This wasn't a soul placed inside a doll; this was a soul tortured in the worst way imaginable.

"_Don't ask me to show you; you'll react very badly…"_

With appalling irony, I remembered my own words.

"_She's not the kind to cry out in pain…"_

Her mouth was open, and it was painfully obvious that a dreadful wail would be resounding, if it could.

"_Or let tears show…"_

I couldn't see her eyes, but I could clearly make out the tear trails marring her cheeks. They seemed – they seemed so out of place on Rachel's face, like someone had put them there as a joke…

It was a joke…it was a _joke_, right?

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't a joke.

Rachel was damned in a way even worse than I thought.

And it was all.

My.

Fault.

So there was nothing I could do.

Nothing but drop on my knees.

And scream with everything I had left.


End file.
